Across the Universe(s)
by LissyGoode
Summary: When the Batfamily needs help, they turn to the only people they can rely on- themselves. Rule 63


"Robin! Abuse!" Nightwing's voice rang out above the screams of the civilians and the crunch of buildings turning to rubble. A faint outline of the hero was visible through the dust. "You have to find them. Get them to help. We're counting out you."

"Don't screw up," another voice yelled, this one hidden behind a red helmet.

There was a beep, and the devices on the young heroes' wrists grew warm and bright…

"No!" Robin's fist hit the wall where Nightwing was standing just a second ago. And probably was still standing in their universe, as the world fell to Hell. Nightwing had said that their task was more dangerous then they might think, and that things there would be under control with the help of Red Robin, Red Hood, and the others but Abuse knew Robin wanted to stay and fight along side of the family.

"Robin," the redhead said softly after a moment, "your arm's bleeding. We should—"

"Shut up," Robin growled, voice horse from all the screaming done in the past hour. "Just… shut up Coleen."

Abuse shrank down to her natural size and the nineteen-year-old hugged her best friend. "It'll be okay, Damia. You'll see. We're gon'ta save the day."

Damia wrapped her arms around Coleen, a sob threatening to rip from her throat. She had seen people die, she had killed people, but that was her family. She had just left her sisters for death. The Girl Wonder felt something heavy drop onto her shoulders, and she pulled Abuse's trench coat around her.

"I'll find you something… less conspicuous to wear," Coleen told her, eyeing the beat up and torn uniform. Coleen wasn't much better in her ripped jeans and two-sizes-too-big tank top, but at least they could pass for regular clothes. Besides, she knew Damia long enough to know she wouldn't want anyone to see her cry—even her girlfriend of five years. "When I get back we can go look for the others, okay?"

Damia nodded slightly, the fight completely gone from her. Her hand was bleeding where it had hit the wall and her arm from a cut she somehow got, but she didn't feel any of it. Her sisters were probably already dead, and she was stuck running for help.

With one last long look at Damia, Coleen pulled her hair back into a braid and slipped onto the busy Gotham street. Even though she hated doing it, it was easy enough to pick someone's pocket. She took a few bills and slipped the wallet back before he even had a chance to register her bumping into him. He probably took a good enough look at her rack to pay for it anyway.

Finding the nearest, cheapest looking shop, Coleen slipped in and went straight for the Clearance section. She grabbed a pack of sports bras for three dollars, a pare of shorts for five, and 2-for-1 undershirts. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get Damia across town with out standing out too much.

As she left the store, Coleen dropped what was left of the money into a homeless girl's hand. She would have told her to buy food with the money, not drugs, but she knew the girl probably wouldn't listen anyway. Hurrying back to where she left Damia, she found the other girl hadn't moved an inch.

"Here," Colleen said softly, handing off one of the bras and the other clothes before pulling her bra around her neck. "As far as I can tell, we're in the same spot as we were." She pulled her arms into her tank top and out through the straps of the sports bra in a fluid motion. After years of sneaking around with Damia, one got quite good at getting a bra back on. "So we should keep moving if we want to get back… um, if we want to get there before sundown." She waited a few moments as she switched out her tank top for the correct sized undershirt, but there was no reply from the dumpster Damia had ducked behind to change. "They're going to be okay… you know that, don't you?"

"Let's just get going," Damia said, tossing her ruined costume into the dumpster and attacting her belt across her chest.

Colleen couldn't help but think she _looked_ like a war survivor, with her cuts and bruises showing openly on her skin. She had wondered how long it would take for the pain and darkness of their hidden lives to show through. Now, she guesses, she knew.


End file.
